The Bisbee Massacre Read Free

you get over to Bisbee much?”
    â€œOnce in a while,” Dodge said. “All my jobs take me there.”
    â€œAnother beer?” Clint asked.
    â€œNo,” Dodge said, “I got rounds to make.” He touched the deputy’s star on his chest. “I am wearin’ this, after all.”
    â€œYou going to be in town for a while?”
    â€œProbably a few days at least,” Dodge said. “Gonna stick around?”
    â€œAt least long enough for us to have a steak together,” Clint said.
    â€œWhere are you stayin’?”
    â€œSagebrush.”
    â€œThat dump?”
    Clint shrugged.
    â€œI was meaning to keep a low profile.”
    â€œOkay,” Dodge said, standing up. “You want to meet up later tonight?”
    â€œSure. Bird Cage?”
    Dodge nodded.
    â€œFor a drink,” Dodge said. “Then we’ll go and get that steak.”
    â€œI’ll walk out with you,” Clint said. “Think I’ll have a bath and a haircut while I’m waiting.”
    He stood up and the two friends walked outside. Dodge slapped Clint on the back.
    â€œI’ll see you tonight at the Bird Cage,” he said. “It’s really good to see you.”
    â€œYeah,” Clint said, “you, too, Fred.”
    Dodge walked one way, and Clint headed the other, in search of a bath.

    Clint had his haircut, then went to the rear of the barber-shop for his hot bath. As he entered the room and closed the door, the steam rose from the boiled water in the tub. That was good. It would take steaming-hot water to wash all the trail crud from his body. It felt as if it was baked into his pores.
    He undressed, pulled a chair over by the tub to hang his gun belt on, then tested the water with his hand first, and then his big toe. He lowered his leg into the water up to his calf, hissed at the intense heat and pulled it back. He closed his eyes, lowered his foot all the way, then stepped in with the other foot. Little by little he lowered himself into the tub until he was up to his neck in hot water.
    He closed his eyes and enjoyed the way the heat crept into his muscles. He used the soap and a cloth to vigorously scrub himself clean, then sat back again to just let his body soak in the heat. He didn’t know how much time he had before the water started to cool, and he wanted to enjoy it as long as possible.
    His mind floated back three years, to the day he first rode into Bisbee . . .

FOUR
    BISBEE, ARIZONA TERRITORY
1883
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    As many times as Clint had been to Tombstone—the last in 1881 for the Earp-Clanton feud—he had not ever been to nearby Bisbee. Twenty-four miles to the southeast, Bisbee was also a town that was thriving on mining. Bisbee was easily larger than Tombstone, and thriving.
    Clint had been returning from Mexico and when he realized he was so close to Bisbee he decided to stop and have a look.
    He rode into Bisbee at midday, and the streets were busy. People were crossing the street in front of wagons from the mines, folks going in and out of the stores, a line of men in front of the assay office, waiting to have their metals weighed. Clint knew that the hills around Bisbee were filled with gold, silver, and copper, and that one of the biggest mines around was the Copper Queen Mine. He knew that the Copper Queen had been staked in 1877 by George Warren, but he didn’t know who owned it now.
    The horse, wagon, and foot traffic was heavy in the center of town. Clint decided to rein Eclipse in, dismount, and find himself a cold beer. He knew Fred Dodge owned a saloon in town, so he figured to find that one.
    He left Eclipse with his reins looped around a hitching post. If the horse backed up and pulled hard enough, he’d be able to get loose. Clint liked to leave the horse in charge of his own destiny. The animal would never wander away for no reason, and if he pulled loose there’d be good cause.
    Clint started walking,